Thursday, September 20, 2012

I hate running. Despise it. I know people who swear by running. How wonderful it is and how great it makes them feel. I, on the other hand, find it incredible boring. But I do love zombies and a goal to achieve. So my goal is to run the Run for your lives 5K.

5K cannot be boring if it is an obstacle course and you are being chased by ZOMBIES! How freaking cool is that. So I am registered. 8:00am wave down in Maryland on the 27th.

Training for it has been difficult. My body apparently does not enjoy running as well. Hips, knees and back are not cooperating. Aleve has become a daily ritual and I have decided after this little goal is completed I will never run again. Up to two miles now before my body says stop but cardio is good. By the day of the race I am sure I will be up to three miles. My martial Arts training is a good cross training for it as well.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

There is the right way to do things and the boss's way to do things.
When the mower dies the grass grows like crazy.
Purchase new mower, drought and heat wave hit killing all the grass.
Zombies are the new vampires. I have a zombie ninja action figure, myself. (still love vampires too)
Clothesline fresh does not mean soft and smelling fresh.
It means stiff and still leaves the lint and cat hair on the clothes. (I miss my dryer.)
I still really love throwing front kicks when free sparring
And last but not least, once you have a had a amazing Margarita all others taste like crap.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

So I took on a challenge. A Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge.http://terribleminds.com
Write a story concerning this picture of a crooked tree.

The dense early morning fog was making it difficult to see
in the forest but it did not slow mama. She did not stumble, trip or fall. Her
every step perfection. She knew the terrain perfectly. Knowing where every twig,
stick, and log lay in their path as if she had walked this trail a hundred
times.

“Come, River.”

His mama called him River because as she said, “You are
always running like the river, constantly in motion.” But now River’s small
legs were burning from almost constant running.

“Mama, I’m tired.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, but we must keep moving.”

“Is papa coming?”

“Yes, I am sure he is searching for us by now.”

The thought alone produced a streak fear to course through
his chest. In the short five years of River’s life; one thing River knew, his
father was a mean man. He was mean to everyone, especially mama and him. So
when mama woke him in the middle of the night and said to be very quiet not to
wake papa. He was quieter than a mouse and hopeful for a life without him in
it.

They broke though the edge of the trees and entered a large
clearing. As they ran through the
clearing a large strange shape was emerging through the thick fog. The looming shape frightening River. He began
to slow not wanting to discover the identity of the mass. His mother tugged his
arm trying to hasten his step.

“Mama, mama, what is it?”

“What, baby?”

River pointed to the large shadow.

“It is a tree.”

“No no, trees do not grow that way. Trees grow up. I think
it is a monster.”

“No, it is a tree. Come, as we get close you shall see.” His
mother pulled him a long and as they approached the mass, his mother was
correct. It was a tree but it was crooked. “We will stop here for a few minutes
to rest.” His mother announced, giving River time to study the tree.

“It is a very ugly tree.” River exclaimed.

“I think it is beautiful.”

“Why?” River asked not seeing how she could find the tree
beautiful.

His mother walked over and ran her hand along the section of
almost horizontal trunk. “It is a true testament of surviving a harsh
beginning. You see how in the beginning,” she pointed to the twisted base of
the tree. “The tree had a very rough
start but it kept growing.” She pointed along the trunk, “See how it grew
crooked and then it eventually made itself grow towards the sky, reaching for
the warmth and beauty of the sun. It must have been quite the struggle for
survival. Oh River, what an amazing and beautiful tree it is. Look over here,”
She pointed to an ugly black scar on the trunk. “The tree has even been struck
by lightning at one point and still it survives. This tree is a symbol of
strength and perseverance to me.”

As she spoke the last sentence a dreaded noise echoed
through the forest. River turned his head to the sickening sound of his
father’s dogs approaching. For someone so little you would not seem it possible
to feel such a feeling of despair. He
listened closely and knew his father was not alone. River looked up at his
mother’s face.

She grabbed his hand. “Run, River, run. Come on.” They
sprinted away from the sound of the approaching dogs. River was not moving as
fast as his mama needed so she gathered him up in his arms and ran as fast as
she could. But it was not fast enough. The sounds of their trackers were
getting louder and louder. Mama stopped, knowing they would be found soon. She
placed him on the ground and knelt in front of him. She cupped his face in her
hands. Her eyes were filling with tears and a sad smile show on her lips.

“My sweet, sweet boy, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, mama. It’s okay.”

“No River it’s not okay. I have failed to keep you safe.”

“Mama, please don’t cry.” River said fighting back his own
tears. Papa would be here soon and River knew tears were cause for punishment.

She looked towards the approaching sounds in the fog. Mama
took a deep breath wiped her tears away. She smiled at him in a way he felt all
the love she had for him engulf him like a warm and comforting hug. "Always
remember I love you more than anything in this world. You are a good boy and
you have a good and strong heart. Never give up who you truly are. Be good to
people, be kind. Do not let his hate and anger corrupt you. Promise me.”

“I promise, Mama.” River whispered. He could hear the heavy
footsteps of his father coming up behind him. Mama looked up at papa. As River
turned to look he saw the gun barrel pointed at his mother’s head. The gun went
off burning River’s face, Mama’s blood splattering across his burns. Moments
later his father’s hand grabbed the scruff of his neck,

River was surprised his memories were so vivid after so
long. Ten years had passed since his mother’s murder. As he and his father stepped into the clearing
they flooded his head once again. Like all the other time he visited the
crooked but beautiful tree.

“Caleb, why are we here?” His father growled.

River turned to his father and small smile lifted the corner
of his mouth. He reached behind and pulled out a gun which was tucked in the
small of his back, pointed it at his head and said, “My name is River.” He
pulled the trigger. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Life has changed.
And with this changed I am sad to admit I forgot the ways and whys of chillin'.
I have been running on overdrive. Doing this. Doing that. Something always needs to get done.
Go go go. Never idle. Always moving. I am sure there is some psychological reason for being constantly in motion due to my recent life changes but WHATEVER. I don't care the explanation. It is what it is or it was what it was because I realized last week I really need to chill and enjoy the calm that parallels my craziness. It's always there patiently waiting for me to kick back and relax and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. A cup of tea, a sunset, a walk, a book, a glass of wine, a flower in bloom, a cat's purr, a dog's wagging tail, your children's laughter, time with your family, dancing in the kitchen while making cupcakes, singing loudly along with the song playing on your ipod, kazoos, totally and utterly enjoying the simple pleasure of being alive, a smile.
The list can go on and on and differ from person to person but the goal to forget and not worry about the troubles, stresses and list of things that needs to be done in our daily lives. Why do we chill? To revitalize ourselves to conquer all that life throws at us.
Does a ninja chill? Well of course they do. After a long day / night of defeating evildoers a ninja needs to chill just like the rest of the world but you just can't see them chillin'. Hellooooo.......Stealthy.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Lately in Kickboxing class there has been music playing. I find my rhythm and movement have improved. Although I have to admit it is really hard not to stop and dance when one of my favorite songs starts to play. I am sure it would not go over well with my instructor. But I am sure it would totally take my opponent off guard. Maybe I can incorporate it into my strategy. Jab, cross, hook, round kick, front kick, salsa step, a little rumba wiggle, spinning back fist, power front kick, heel turn.